Something to be Said
by Shovel
Summary: Two pages of Addison and Derek coming to terms.


_If you love me, be at the trailer tonight. _

_-Addison_

Derek picked up the paper, noticing that it was quite frail and brittle in a few places. Upon examining it closely, he could see that not only were they sporadic, but they formed circles—they were tears. Hazel eyes looked at the paper, then toward the pale orange door, which he had entered, care-free (or at least as care-free as one could get). One word resounded in his head; Addison. His head flung back in the other direction, to be faced only, with empty beds.

_Addison._

Derek headed straight toward his office, brushing past people with a tremendous amount of speed. He ran across the brilliant bridge, the moon's bright rays providing sunlight for the night-patients. It had been no later than 10 minutes, before Derek had thrown that cute little black coat around his shoulder, neglecting to even pick up his bags.

The amount of time for that stupid light to change, raped his impatience, his fingers reacting by strangling the steering wheel. It was that note, which sparked curiosity and concern. It held only 9 words, but meant so much more. To most, it would have seemed vague, but not to Derek. The tires rolled seamlessly over the pebbles, pulling up right before the illuminated trailer. Need he worry? Perhaps Addison just wanted him home. Perhaps that would be the solution, however, the tear stains gave away so much more.

_Addison._

His pace before, much faster, had dropped drastically. His steps were taken with caution and undying care. Did it have something to do with Meredith? He came before the silver-plated door, opening it up gingerly. It wasn't a large place—it was a trailer, for god sakes. There she stood, her back faced toward him. His lips parted, desperate to release words, though the only thing that emitted was air. No sooner than a step, did the tip of his feet hit something rather soft. Eyes dropped to the floor, realizing almost immediately that they were bags. Luggage bags.

The brilliant red haired woman turned around, her nose giving away the slightest tint of red. In a small voice, and a slight shrug of a shoulder, she spoke. "You showed." Vivid green eyes shimmered with remaining tears, her fists clasping onto a maimed tissue. On that smooth, porcelain face, a sort of forced smirk could be seen dancing on her face.

Again, no response, but a mere nod of his head. All too soon, did Derek finally realize what was happening. Finally, after frustrating moments of having a shot voice, he spoke. It was soft…like hers.

"Addison…"

Silence overcame the both of them, as Addison felt stripped, left for Derek to analyze. It had been years, months, when Derek had last seen Addison strip herself completely to him. It was a heart breaking scene, wrenching at his heart. What was it? What was it about that tear-stained note that made everything click? The thought of a measly, little paper, with 9, fleeting words scripted onto them, making Derek realize everything that had happened, seem just, so, utterly ridiculous. But that was what it was.

"I love you, Derek." Even after hours of rehearsal and years of saying it, the words sounded fresh and unheard of. She refrained from crying out, choking back the lump that formed in her throat. Their eyes were locked, with such a bereaved intensity. And their eyes remained connected, even as Addison shook her head slightly, her beautiful, red hair splattering her bare shoulders. "But I…I don't want to be the only one trying, here." Her words were calm and paced, as she chose her words with such care and meticulous picking.

"Addison…"

"And I don't…I don't want to force you to love me, Derek." Despite her efforts to not cry, her voice began to break, her last few words on the brink of being raspy and desperate.

"Addison…" Each time those words had fallen out of his mouth, they had become increasingly drained of volume, but gentler.

There was no need for words, here. The intensity of the lock had suddenly broken, when Addison's eyes dropped to the floor. Unconsciously, Derek's own eyes had reverted toward the kitchen, like a shy boy falling upon the image of a naked girl. He expected her to walk right by, his own eyes, at this point, becoming filled with unrelenting tears. But no; she had stopped, bags in her hands, and backs facing each other. Their eyes that once held such sweet memories had become but a black and white film. It was a moment of silent crying, before Addison's soft voice broke the surface.

"I'm leaving, Derek." Words like that are cold and cut-throat, but when Addison spoke them, it wasn't. Somehow, she had managed to keep such a sweet and endearing tone to it. It gave away the slightest bit of reluctance, yet also came with a special meaning, that only Derek could uncover. It was a message of happiness, a happiness that only came with a sacrifice.

It was a still moment, as Derek waited for her to leave. He didn't want her to leave, but his body wasn't reacting. Her words, though gentle and soft-spoken, held such a ringing determination. Those silk, black strands fell over his watery eyes, while he bit his lip in vain. The sound of a running motor, and tires rolling over the pebbles soon faded away, along with the tears that were swept away by the back of his hand.

"Addison."

With warm, teary eyes, he stared at the door, as if she were to come back. There was glimmer of light that tore his hazel eyes away from the door. There sat the two bands that had sat on her finger for 12 years, since the moment he had slipped it onto her fingers. The duct from which he drew his tears, he assumed to be depleted of supply, however, he was wrong.

_Addison_.

Even after she was gone, her name resounded strongly in his mind. There was something so amazingly beautiful about all the sadness in the world. It was that moment of joy, in finding that a piece of paper could defeat so many levels of speech.

_Sometimes it just feels like the walls are closing in. _

_Time, time, ticking on me. _

_Alone is the last place I wanted to be. _

A/N; Okay, whatever. The scene just popped into my head, and I know the ideas seem inconsistent. Think about it this way; Derek doesn't want her to leave, yet finds a release in her words. He loves her, yes, but imagine how hard it must be to live with someone you hate. Perhaps a couple of months just isn't enough time to forgive her, or even if he ever will. It's exhausting to hate somebody, and it's exhausting for Addison to constantly deceive herself.

Things are a bit choppy here, I know. But writing this was more for my own release, than for your entertainment. However, I'd still be more than happy to explain it to you, if you still don't understand the feeling/tone of this piece.

My thoughts can sort out only so much while listening to music. Which I was. I think it'll help with the tone I'm trying to convey to you.

Brandi Carlile's "What Can I Say"

The song I had originally written this piece to was Keane's "Somewhere Only We Know," but I ended up using Carlile's "What Can I Say." But Keane's song works well, too.

I found both when they were featured on "Grey's Anatomy."

Concerning Addison's note;

It isn't explained throughout the duration of this piece, because, like I've said before, it was for my own enjoyment. And running into the whole explanation would ruin it, right? Ahem. Anyway; we all know Derek sees Addison as an obligation, rather than someone he'd enjoy spending time with. Her leaving was like a sweet release, but he also saw it as a great sacrifice. In my mind, Derek knows that Addison was trying very hard to make the marriage work, and it hurt Addison more, to leave, than it was for him to see her leave. I suppose, in a way, it was sort of like thanking her. Well, I don't know. I belong to one, fucked up mind. (: Oh, and I'm well aware that Addison and Derek were married for 11 years. But I assume the engagement was sooner. I started out with the intention of delving deeper into Addison's point of view, though I seemed to have failed. Ah, quaint how these things work out.


End file.
